Looking to the Sky
by BittyWhiteFox
Summary: As I looked into those eyes, I started to realize. Everyday he finds just what he's looking for. He takes my hand, and asks if I would come along.


**Inspired by Vanessa Carlton's 'Ordinary Day'**

* * *

He stands in the shade of an ancient oak tree. The warm afternoon breeze rustles the leaves, making them flutter and dance, and a spotlight of brilliant sun seeps through a momentary gap and takes him in its embrace. As soon as it's there, it's gone again, and he smiles sadly. He wants to walk away from the grandfather tree; wants to step into the sun and let it fall upon him. But he doesn't move. One hand rests on the gnarled, weathered bark. He can almost feel the old life pulsing through it.

His smile becomes more wistful than sad as he thinks that this great tree is younger even than him. Centuries have passed by, and he's drifted through each one. Others like him have come and gone; few are as old as he. He can't remember coming into existence. But no person recalls the very moment they came into this life, so he doesn't think too hard on the subject.

The tree stands alone, the only one within eyesight. He squints his green eyes, searching the endless field around him for any other black dot that shows a tree. When he doesn't find one, he feels inexplicably lonely. The ache in his heart isn't a new one, but it saddens him all the same. There is no one around him; no one to talk to, no one to touch, or tell his dreams to. This vast plain is for him and him alone.

Unable to bear the emptiness around him, he lets his eyes fall close just as a warm hand takes his from the tree. He gasps and his eyes fly open again. They meet the most startling, gorgeous blue irises he's ever seen. They're crystal clear, deep oceans that he could get lost in; and he wants to.

"What are you doing over here?"

He blinks, still startled. The warm calloused hand is larger than his, and he suddenly doesn't want it to ever let go. He grips tighter and says, "This is the only tree. I should stay in the shade, so I don't get burned by the sun."

The other laughs, loud and bright and exuberant like the very sun he's so afraid of but longs for so much.

"The sun isn't going to burn you. It's nice."

The hand tugs on his, but he's still hesitant; afraid. He's always hidden away in the shade, standing tall by the lone tree. It's where he belongs. "I can't."

The smile turned on him is warm, gentle. "I promise, the sun isn't going to hurt you."

"But there's nothing out there." he says, looking across the long flowing grass. The wind pulls at the grass, creating shifted waves of green around them. It's empty.

The other hand falls over his eyes, and he's turned around. "Of course there's something out there," he furrows his brows, blinking behind the hand and feeling his eyelashes brush the warm palm. Soft lips against his ear say "You just have to look."

Apprehension rises in him as the hand lifts from his eyes. At first, he won't open his eyes. He doesn't know what he's going to see.

Finally, he gathers the courage and allows his eyes to flutter open. The scene revealed before him is absolutely brilliant, and his mouth gapes open at the splendor. The flat, green plains have become splashed with arrays of colors. Wildflowers, big and small rise up around them, vibrant petals reached to the bright golden disc above. The thick, wafting aroma surrounds him, and he almost runs out into the field in delight.

But once again, his fear holds him back. What if the flowers hide thorns ready to tear him to shreds? The thought of such beauty hiding a danger is almost impossible, but he almost expects it. And that is why he stays firmly by the great trunk, even when the hand tugs at his again.

"You will be safe, trust me."

And he does. For some unknown, subconscious reason, he trusts this sun-like person with his very life. And that is why he lets the other guide him out into the light.

It's bright. So much brighter than he ever imagined, and warm on his face. There aren't any dark thorns hidden in the plant life. His steps are slow, cautious, like he's waiting any moment for something to leap out and ruin everything.

Nothing happens. The hand just continues to pull him farther and farther away from his long time shelter. The fear begins to melt away, each step away from the tree bringing courage.

He never knew how wonderful it felt to have the sun shining down on him, unhindered by thick leaves. The never ending sea of flowers is too amazing for words, and he doesn't even try.

The glorious sun shines off the others honey wheat hair, and tanned face. A smile so radiant, he feels like a star is standing right in front of him. For the first time in he can't remember how long, the smile that graces his own face is one of pure joy and happiness. The laugh bubbles up and burst free before he can contain it, and he lets it out with pride. At the same time, warm tears fall down his face. For once, he isn't alone.

And just as he thinks this, his hand falls empty...

–

Arthur is awoken to an explosion of bright morning sunlight on his face. His eyes fly open then clench shut again as he was blinded.

As he waits for his eyes to adjust, Arthur realizes his hand is outstretched above him, as if he's reaching for something he can't quite grasp. He lowers it to the bedspread, and can't help the spike of loneliness that shoots through him. Despite the sun falling on him through the windows, the Englishman feels like he's enshrouded once again by the great oak's shade.

Eventually, he opens his eyes to the new day and sits up, rubbing a hand over his face. _Just another ordinary day_, he thinks.

"Rise and shine, Arty!" a cheerful voice calls from the doorway.

Arthur turns and catches sight of a wide smile, brilliant enough to rival the stars. Honey wheat hair frames a tanned face, and oceanic blue eyes catch his own. The very glimpse of that grin drives out all the traces of loneliness in Arthur's heart.

"Got you breakfast," the other says, holding up a bag with yellow, double arches emblazoned across the front. "'Cause that's what the hero does. He takes care of his friends." The other gives a loud, exuberant laugh and tosses the bag to Arthur.

He catches it, and allows himself a secret, happy smile. _Just an ordinary day,_ he thinks. _With a not so ordinary guy._


End file.
